"More than I knew of," said the gentleman, laughing "there were more than I knew of; but you see I court the danger, having rashly concluded that I might as well know all my weak points at once."
"Miss Ringgan will break nothing to-night, Mr. Stackpole she promised me she would not."
"Not even her silence?" said the gentleman.
"Is she always so desperately industrious?" said Mr. Thorn.
"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Stackpole," said Constance, "is subject to occasional fits of misanthropy, in which cases her retreating with her work to the solitude of the centre-table is significant of her desire to avoid conversation as Mr. Thorn has been experiencing."
"I am happy to see that the malady is not catching, Miss
Constance."
"Mr. Stackpole," said Constance, "I am in a morose state of mind! Miss Ringgan, this morning, received a magnificent bouquet of roses, which, in the first place, I rashly appropriated to myself; and ever since I discovered my mistake, I have been meditating the renouncing of society it has excited more bad feelings than I thought had existence in my nature."
"Mr. Stackpole," said Mrs. Evelyn, "would you ever have supposed that roses could be a cause of discord?"
Mr. Stackpole looked as if he did not exactly know what the ladies were driving at.
"There have five thousand emigrants arrived at this port within a week!" said he, as if that were something worth talking about.